


Survival

by Resa_Saso



Category: Doctor Who
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-12
Updated: 2017-08-12
Packaged: 2018-12-14 10:08:59
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,311
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11780946
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Resa_Saso/pseuds/Resa_Saso
Summary: Pre-Utopia Doctor finds the Master's old TARDIS, dying, screaming for help in his head. A nostalgia tour.





	Survival

**Author's Note:**

> I still don't know if it's any good, but uploading does tell these things, right? So it's nearly not angsty, because we all know how it ends, being setted before Utopia... Anyway. Enjoy & let me know what you think! :)

 

 

The Doctor felt cold wind biting at him, his hair whirled around untamed, his coat fluttered in the air. He shivered, with the calls of help still resounding in his head and the cold creeping up at him.  
But wherever he looked, there was just darkness, all around him, consuming every optimistic thought he might have gathered along the way.  
The Doctor wasn’t easily scared, especially not by the dark, but right now, with silent screams in his mind, desperately trying to get his attention, he couldn’t help but shiver.  
Okay, he thought to himself. So it was a cold night and someone screamed for him telepathically, nothing unusual, really.  
Except the creaking of the old, wooden door in front of him, that led him into a rotten, sunken cottage, no one seemed to have entered in decades.  
There were sticky webs of spiders, slivered planks and dust swirling up in the pale moonlight. The first light that had shown into the old lodge in years, the Doctor thought silently as he entered with a reluctant step.  
Still, there was something in there, alive and in pain, needing him.  
And the Doctor followed their voice inside the dusty darkness, feeling slight disturbance creeping up in him, he couldn’t truly explain.  
Until he was inside and realized what it was.  
‘Rassilon!’ he whispered, his eyes wide as he looked around. ‘But that’s…. that’s…’  
The cottage wasn’t a cottage. The first thing he noticed was, that it was strangely modern, turned down, electric lights enlightened a slightly run-down room, that looked way too large for what the hut showed from the outside.  
The Doctor smiled, when he grasped what happened here.  
And then let the little gesture die with a spark of guilty conscience.  
‘Oh… oh no,’ he whispered, still hearing her weep in his mind, asking for his mercy, his help, his healing. ‘Oh, I’m so sorry, old girl!’  
He ran into the middle of the large room, swallowing seriously, when he saw the jammed controls. He knew three things for sure within a few seconds, knowledge that came into his mind blow on blow.  
This was a TARDIS, it was dying, and it was the Master’s.  
He stroked the console with soft hands, while she wept her agony and he just held her and listened, felt sadness creeping up in him, that might have been hers, but might as well been his own.  
‘I’m so sorry…,’ he whispered into the empty room, looked at the ceiling as if he could reach her that way. ‘I’m so, so sorry. He’s gone. They’re all gone, you see? Gallifrey, the Time Lords… there’s only me left. But of course, you already knew that, you clever thing.’  
There were tears in his eyes, while he still kept on stroking her tenderly. Tears he wasn’t sure what they came for. Was he crying for the Master, who fell into the Eye of Harmony right in front of his eyes, gone forever? Was he crying for his TARDIS, in pain and so very, very lonely? Or for himself, the last of his kind, following a cry for help and ending up in his old friend’s home, his very left behind heart?  
He drew a deep breath. Here she was, still alive, even though her connected Time Lord was dead. He knew, his own TARDIS would die down eventually, should he come to an end, would dim her lights and rot away, but this one… Oh, she was just as reluctant to die as her Time Lord was, wasn’t she? Brilliant, clever, beautiful thing, suffering without him and still not able to let go. He could feel her sadness mingling with his own and he didn’t mind. This was it, the one place he needed to be, the one place he could grieve for the Master and find himself truly _understood._  
More than that, she seemed to comfort him in a strange way, her presence being the first one he felt inside his mind for ages, sharing their painful loss. Something they had so very in common: Oh, they never thought they’d see a day without the Master, did they?  
The Doctor looked at his fingers, they were black from the dust that had covered the console.  
‘You should’ve called me sooner,’ he said with sadness in his voice. ‘I could’ve helped you.’  
He could end her suffering, could just kill her off, drain her of the last energy she was recently fighting for in pain.  
But in his mind, he saw the Master, saw him stealing bodies, saw him burning alive and coming out completely well, saw him fighting for his survival, always determined, always efficient. And someone other than him, he might’ve fallen for the belief, the Master’s TARDIS was nothing but a machine for him, a ship to bring him where he needs to be (precisely, because everything in the Master’s life just worked precisely or never at all, didn’t it? But the Doctor knew better. He knew, because he felt her love and her warmth for the Time Lord all around himself, he knew because he knew him better than anyone else.  
The Master had loved this loyal, beautiful ship and the Master was a survivor, even in death, forever in his mind, oh, he lived on, he would, because he wouldn’t leave this TARDIS die.  
‘I’ll be back in a heartbeat,’ he promised and got a light, weak hum as an answer. Encouraged, he shot out of the ship, didn’t even notice the biting of the wind and the darkness of this dusty old planet anymore. He was heading straight towards his own TARDIS, softly stroking the blue wood of it, before entering.  
Sudden affection burned in him, bright and warm. A TARDIS was such a loyal, lovely thing, wasn’t it?  
He ran in, laughed, jumped in the air, the agony from before forgotten. He would save her, she would save her and in one strike also save the last remembrance of The Master, would make her as immortal as the Time Lord always intended to be.  
‘Come on, old girl!’ he laughed happily. ‘Time to save an old friend, eh?’  
Some simple controls should be enough. He didn’t really bother about precision because for once the Doctor was utterly sure, his TARDIS would find her way on her own, would know exactly where to go, probably had been longing to go there for ages, silently waiting for her time to come.  
And yes, as soon as the TARDIS announced her landing, he felt a slight shift in the air, felt the two of them merging happily. Instantly, the pressure inside his mind was gone, the agonized screams of the Master’s TARDIS stopped and were replaced by a content humming.  
He smiled widely and sent the warmest thoughts to both of the ladies now cruising through his thoughts.  
Oh, how good it felt, the telepathic connection to someone so close to the Master, to his oldest and so long gone friend. How less alone he felt in his total loneliness. And the Doctor knew, if he’d just spent one second stopping and thinking, it all would crash down on him immensely, but right now he wouldn’t allow himself, right now it only mattered to jump start the Master’s TARDIS, bring her back to life.  
He didn’t need to do anything else. His TARDIS happily shared her energy, breathed new life into her old friend, while the Doctor went back in there and strolled around. He couldn’t help himself. This was as close as it got to a home for the Master, closer than Gallifrey, closer than any place in the whole universe and he just had to follow back the traces of the other renegade.  
Oh, he’d been here several times. He avoided a few old traps that only worked half-heartedly to start with and wandered through the long, bleak corridors, until he found a door to the Master’s old bedroom. He stopped only for a second, half scared of what he would find, half curious, oh so curious.  
He had never been in here.  
The Doctor opened the door slightly, took a look inside through the little gap, before he decided to actually create a way through. He entered with hesitant steps, one after another, until he was in the centre of the room.  
It was nearly completely impersonal, which, funnily enough, made it so clearly the Master’s. The only thing that kind of felt wrong in the bleak, clean room was a framed picture, which lay front down on the night shelf next to the unmade bed. (Oh God, an unmade bed. It didn’t smell like him anymore, but it was so clearly left by him, it hurt, it hurt.)  
When the Doctor picked the frame up, he could’ve sworn, his hearts skipped a beat or two.  
It was a drawing he knew, he had framed it personally, given it to him centuries ago, when they were both little boys and thought, nothing could ever come between them.  
A picture of them, looking at each other, not at the classmate that had drawn them. There was love in their eyes. He remembered how Koschei had always dismissed it as ‘Artistic freedom’, but the Doctor had always known better. Oh, he had seen love in this eyes, young eyes, that weren’t carrying all the bitterness yet.  
_Never again_ , he reminded himself, but quickly brushed away that thought.  
He smiled, a sad smile. He hadn’t believed the Master would’ve kept this picture all through the centuries. And still, it laying head down and dusted on a shelf, it wasn’t much of a surprise. They weren’t great friends in the end.  
They weren’t anything in the end, but twisted and messed up, lonely, bitter and lost. So lost.  
It was funny.  The Master had been executed, burned to death, stolen bodies of people that hadn’t finished with their own lives yet… The Doctor was so busy with watching him die, he forgot to mention how glad he was, he was alive.  
Now it was too late and he wondered, if the Master had ever known.  
Suddenly he felt two things at once.  There were fresh tears in his eyes, powerful and burning and they wouldn’t go away for a long, long time.  
And the TARDIS was singing a soothing, beautiful song in his head, trying to comfort him, giving him some peace. He appreciated the effort and silently stepped out of the room again, closed the door behind him neatly.  
But he knew, some doors would never close.  
‘I’m sorry, my old friend..,’ he whispered into the empty corridor. ‘You were always clinging to life so much, it feels wrong that in the end I’d survive and you…’ A silent sob.  
_I miss you. You were my headlight, something that let me know where I’d head to. That always let me know who I am. I am so lost, Master, so lost… and you’re not even here to gloat over it.  
  
_ The Master knew she was worried, he could feel the sentiment all around him, embracing him, as if she’d hoped she could prevent his movements, if she just worried loud enough.  
He smirked, that special, warm smirk no one but her had ever seen.  
(Well, the Doctor never looked, did he?)  
‘I’ll be fine, you know me. I’m a survivor.’  
Still worry. He chuckled.  
‘So are you. So is the Doctor. Listen. I’ll be a filthy human for so long, I’ll forget who I am. It’ll be cruel, but I’ll need you, when I snap out of it.’  
_I’ll need something Timelordy to not get lost in their cursed emotions_ , he thought to himself, knowing she’d hear it, even if he didn’t dare to speak the words out loud.  
Control, he didn’t want to lose it, but to survive he had to give it up now. This goddamn war… Watching Arcadia fall, it had scared him half to death.  
‘You’ve got a connection to the Doctor.’ A slight defensive humming.  
The Master grinned. ‘Oh, don’t you dare denying it, not to me. You know it’s true, you have one. Just as I have, I suppose. So use it. A TARDIS dies if they lose connection to their Time Lord, well, you won’t. Cling to the Doctor. When I’m gone, he’ll be your Timelord.’  
More worry. He smiled. It was war and he knew, she’d understand in time. Survival required desperate measures now and then.  
‘It’s alright, I assure you. He’ll survive. Skaro, Gallifrey, the whole universe, they can burn and sink and end, but he’ll live. As will I. We’ll find each other again, eventually. Until then… Live.’  
He didn’t wait for her goodbyes. Despite of what people might think about their differences – He didn’t differ from the Doctor much in this aspect – He didn’t like them.  
So he started the Chameleon Arch process, knowing his fate would be in save hands.

Hands that now trembled with the effort to hold still, a whole Time Lord body, shaken by agony and pain, crying with bent shoulders.  
A humming, a sound that nearly sounded like a soft, affectionate purr, and two monitors flickered on, powered by the energy of the Doctor’s TARDIS.  
The crying Timelord wiped his eyes in surprise and looked up, trying to pay attention to what the ship was trying to show him.  
A grin, bright and enthusiastic, spread across his face.  
These were logs. Logs from flights that occurred after the Master’s trial on Skaro. Logs that sang of Gallifrey, sang of war, sang of places he’d never known the Master had been, sang of hope. Hope, sweet hope.  
Maybe, just maybe, there really was hope. Maybe his TARDIS wasn’t the only one that after a long time of suffering, didn’t turn out to be the last of her kind.  



End file.
